Fragments of Faith
by Crimson Angel Sin
Summary: She was diagnosed with a fatal disease. She was told she only had three months to live. However, she told the Shinigami that she wouldn't die. . . .HanataroxOC
1. To Live Is To Die

_Disclaimer: I do not own _Bleach_. I do own the OCs that appear in this story, as well as the story concept._

_Crimson: . . . I've got nothing to say. Read and review, please!_

_READ ON!_

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**Chapter One–**

**To Live Is To Die**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

"A lung disease?" I repeated slowly, unable to comprehend. "You mean, you have no idea which one?" I asked, narrowing my eyes in a futile effort to discern the wrinkles in my doctor's youthful face.

"No," she replied with only slight hesitation. "It's not that we don't know which one," she tried to explain. "It's that we have never seen this strain before." She bit her lower lip then, sky-blue eyes looking from one corner of the room to the next.

She was looking at everything but me. It was then that I knew bad news was on its way.

"But you _do_ know what's going to happen to my body?" I phrased it as a question, but already knew the answer. It was plenty obvious based on the middle-aged woman's actions.

She let out a sigh. I could hear the regret and sadness in it. My heart dropped from my chest to nestle somewhere in the pit of my stomach. Everything suddenly felt cold. I kept my sea-blue eyes focused on the doctor's face, however, stubbornly refusing to fall into my initial fear.

"I have confirmed the diagnosis with other doctors in this field," she started, getting all professional.

I rolled my eyes but said nothing. If it made her feel better acting as if she didn't care about me–her patient–then so be it.

"They all agree, at the rate your body has been deteriorating, you won't make it to the end of the year." She finally settled her gaze on me, eyes full of sorrow. "I'm sorry, Angel, but you only have two or three months at best." Her forehead creased with worry as I silently took in what she had told me. "Angel?"

I jumped at my name, recalling exactly where I was. "Oh! I'm sorry," I mumbled an apology, rubbing the back of my neck out of habit. "I was lost in my thoughts again." A lop-sided grin played about my lips, but it failed to reach my eyes.

"Would you like your family in here? To tell them yourself? Or–" she started, no doubt going to say she could give them the grisly details on my behalf.

"No," I cut her off, a warning glint in my eye. Usually I wouldn't glare at someone like this. I normally wouldn't have the guts to, but this was one thing I was _not_ going to let someone talk me into. "Don't tell them. I don't want them to know," I demanded. My frail fingers curled into the white hospital sheets, knuckles growing white at the strain. When I noticed the doctor open her mouth to argue her point, I shook my head at her. "They will _not_ suffer on my account," I spoke sternly, forcing myself to harden my gaze so I could get my point across. "It isn't necessary for them to know."

She studied me for a long moment, then, when noticing that I was not going to back down any time soon, she signaled her defeat with a weary sigh.

"All right, Angel. Whatever you say," she gave in, tossing me a tired smile. "I'll send in the nurse to do the standard check-out, then you're free to go." With that said, she opened the door and slipped out, leaving me alone.

I let out the breath I had been holding in, flopping carelessly onto my back. I cringed at the stiffness of both the mattress and the bed sheets underneath me. You'd think with the pay doctors get, they'd have better _beds_. . . .

The sound of creaking wood alerted me to the presence of someone entering the room. I shot up, a light blush on my cheeks at the laidback state I had just been in. I hated getting caught like that no matter how natural it was. I hadn't expected someone to come in so soon.

My sapphire eyes widened at the woman who walked in through the door. She smiled kindly at me as she softly shut the door behind her so as to give us privacy. The standard nurse's scrubs covered her slim form, but she could be wearing a potato sack and I would still recognize _her_. Her usually-braided, black hair hung in a low ponytail at the base of her skull. It was quite long, reaching all the way to her hips, at least. She looked middle-aged, but her eyes spoke of wisdom well beyond her years–the kind that only those who had surpassed a century or so could possess. . . .

I spoke her name without even realizing it.

She stopped mid-stride–halfway between the door and my bed–looking surprised. Then that familiar smile came back to her heart-shaped face once more.

"I see that you know who I am," the woman surmised, coming to my side in a somehow-graceful manner. "I supposed I shouldn't be all that surprised, considering my story is quite popular nowadays," she continued, setting the clipboard she was carrying at the head of the bed. She pulled out a medical utensil from one of her outfit's many pockets and proceeded with the standard check-up. "You don't seem as shocked as others are when they see me, though," she commented as she flashed a penlight into my right eye, calculating the pupil response. She bent over to write down the response on the clipboard before doing the same to my left eye. "Why is that, if I may ask?"

I blinked at her, in a slight daze from the brightness of the dilation test. "Oh, um, I guess I just always knew you all existed," I stumbled over my words. My cheeks heated up in embarrassment at how stupid that sounded. I wanted to slap a hand to my forehead but refrained from doing so in the presence of this stately woman.

"Really?" Now she seemed even more surprised. She shook it off, however, and brought the stethoscope to her ears. "Can you lift up your shirt, dear?" she asked politely, still smiling.

I nodded and instantly complied. Pulling up the bottom part of my black tanktop, I revealed my very-thin and very-frail body. I can say one positive thing about my body: any girl would kill for this physique. But that's the only positive about it. It only _looked _good. But underneath the skin, it was slowly decaying. . . .

I shivered at the icy feel of the metal piece of the stethoscope that she placed just below my black bra. I hesitated when she told me to take a deep breath. I knew what would happen.

I erupted into a coughing fit the instant I expanded my lungs to their fullest extent. The woman parading as a nurse dropped the end of the stethoscope in a nanosecond. She held me in her arms as I fought for breath between hacking coughs, rubbing my back comfortingly. My body jerked at every cough, feeling as if it would fall apart with each one. Tears seeped from the corners of my eyes, unbidden and unwanted. The pain was near-unbearable! It felt like glass shards erupted from my throat with every yank of the diaphragm. Fire seared my lungs, threatening to burn me from the inside-out. The soothing circles between my shoulder blades never once let up. I focused solely on them, trying to get myself through this hell. After about five minutes (which felt more like five _years_ to me), my body slowly worked itself out.I half-expected to see blood pooled in my palms as the coughing subsided. I didn't know whether to be happy that there wasn't any red liquid staining the snow-white skin of my hands, or if I should be crying that that hell hadn't been terrible enough to warrant such a gruesome mess.

"I suppose I should have know better than to ask you to do that," the woman sitting at my side remarked with a false chuckle. The smile no longer reached her eyes.

"It's alright," I reassured her in a raspy voice. I frowned, fingering my sore throat. My body suddenly felt very weak. I'd have to live with _this_ for _three_ freaking months? Man, this "fragile, little princess" thing was getting old, fast. . . .

"The rest of the check-up can be dismissed then," the kind-hearted "nurse" spoke quietly. She stood up, took the clipboard from the bed, and placed it on the doctor's desk nearby. Turning back to me, she opened her mouth to say something, but I intercepted with a question that had been bugging me the second she had stepped in through my door.

"Why are you here, Unohana-san?" I asked her, watching her intently for any sign of a response. A few minutes passed before I received one.

"I am to lead you back to the Soul Society," the Shinigami Captain of the Fourth Division spoke up.

"But why? I didn't think you had jurisdiction here in America," I wondered, confusion clouding my thoughts to the point that I couldn't think clearly. It was true. The Gotei 13 only operated in Japan, right? America had a whole different set of Shinigami or "Soul Reapers"–as they were called here. Every country did, or, at least, that's what I had surmised. Each country had a society of souls that regulated their countrymen and countrywomen upon death.

A thought occurred to me and my eyes widened in realization.

"I see that you understand it now, Angel-san," Unohana commented, correctly interpreting the expression on my face. "You are a special case. One that is unusual but certainly not unheard of."

_'Especially in modern days,'_ I thought idly to myself. It happened all the time now, so I never thought of the significance of it. If you died in one country, it was the duty of that country's Soul Society to take care of the deceased's soul. At least, that's what I had believed. It never occurred to me that the soul would have to return to where it was _born_; to where it was first _conceived_. In other words, I. . . .

"You were born in Japan, Angel-san," Unohana verified my train of thought. "Ultimately, you will have to return there. As I said 'special circumstance'," she gave me another smile.

"But you're a _captain_," I tried to argue, knowing that it was pointless but still confused, nonetheless. "This is such a common occurrence nowadays that I don't see how such a menial job could possibly fall upon a _captain_. . . ."

Unohana regarded me silently for a minute before answering my questioning look. "Well, it's hardly common for the Gotei 13 in Japan," she started. "There may be a few foreigners who have children there, but even fewer were actually _conceived_ in our country." She smiled again, standing proudly before me. "And, it would appear, that I am one of the few shinigami who know English."

I sweatdropped at that, unable to tell if she was telling the truth or not. It seemed she was; after all, I didn't picture Unohana as being the lying type. Another sigh escaped my lips as I tried to retain all the new information this shinigami captain had given me.

"So _I_," I emphasized myself by pointing at my face, "am going with _you_." I did the same with her, waving my pointer finger in her direction.

She simply smiled and nodded.

"Now?" I asked her.

"Not quite," she said. "It would be a problem if I bring in a still-living human into the Soul Society," she explained. "Usually we 'check in' on a soul we know is going to die soon. It's the main cause for several stories about folk who see ghosts of loved ones just before their demise. You, however, _caught_ me." Her smile seemed to never fade, but, somehow, that single sentence made me shudder. I don't think she was too thrilled about being _caught_. . . .

"So, I will return in three months to retrieve you," she assured me with a grin. She then waited patiently for me to speak up, expecting me to say something about such news.

Well, I did, but I don't think it was what she was wanting to hear. . . .

"Just one problem: I'm not going to die," I informed her, a serious expression on my face.

"Being stubborn won't–" she started but I interrupted before she could finish.

"It's not stubbornness," I told her in a forceful voice. "I _can't_ die." I let out a breath of frustration at the confused look upon the Shinigami's face. "Look, I don't understand it much myself, but I _do_ know that I won't die that day. And what's more is. . . ." I trailed off, staring at her hard. "How old do I appear to you?" I asked her, my voice as grim as it could be.

"Well, your records indicate–" she began again, but, once more, I cut her off.

"Ignore the records, and _look_ at me," I demanded, shrugging off my usual modest demeanor so I could get this woman to see the point. "How old do I _appear_?"

She stared at me with an expression of confusion on her face, but slowly answered my question, nonetheless. "About 15-16 years old."

"Exactly," I sighed, nodding my head in a sign of approval of her answer. "I look like a young teenager. Do you know why that is?"

"Some adults have youthful faces," Unohana tried to explain. "It's not un–"

"It is when it comes to me," I whispered just loud enough for her to hear. My blue eyes fell to my hands resting innocently on my lap. "I'm 22 years old. Soon to be 23. But I don't look a day over 16." I closed my eyes, blocking out the soft, white skin spanning across my legs and arms. "I haven't aged a single day for almost seven years. My family isn't aware of this. They simply think it is the same thing as you say: 'a youthful face', but I _know_ better. . . ." I trailed off, opening my eyes back up. Tears formed a lump in my throat, threatening to fill my eyes. "I've been able to keep up a facade for these past several years, but I can't do it much longer. Even my younger siblings look older than me now. I need to get away as soon as I can," I admitted, finally allowing the salty water to slip from my eyelids to trail sticky rivulets down my cheeks. The pain of having admitted that out loud felt like knives digging into my belly. I knew I would have to hide from my family eventually, but I never thought it would hurt _this_ much. I suppose I always believed what my parents (and Unohana) had always suggested. That maybe I wasn't different than them. . .but then something entered my life that finally showed me the ugly truth. . . .

"If what you say is true. . . ." Unohana's thoughtful voice brought me out of my dark reverie.

I looked back over at her. Her smile had disappeared to be replaced by a pensive expression.

"The Captain General will have to be informed of this," she concluded. She then turned her attention back to me. "It would be best if you come with me then. We can watch your progress to see if you truly do survive the three months."

I slowly nodded my head at her, hardly able to comprehend the words that were still ringing in my ears.

I was going to go to the _Seireitei_?


	2. Fragile

_Disclaimer: I do not own _Bleach_. I do own Angel, though, so no taking her or her problems._

_Crimson: Um. . .please review? I'd really appreciate it._

_READ ON!_

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**Chapter Two–**

**Fragile**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

"What is the meaning of this, Captain Retsu Unohana?" the Captain General Genryûsai Shigekuni Yamamoto demanded in his deep, authoritative voice.

I managed to refrain from shivering, but I still moved closer to Unohana until I was practically clinging to the back of her _Shihakushô _(the clothes a _Shinigami_ wears). My slender hands disappeared within its black folds easily enough. The wrinkled face of the First (and Head) Captain furrowed in amusement as I peeked over Unohana's shoulder to glare at him.

The other captains gathered on either side of the room seemed to be amused as well. Many of them either hid their grins or showed them openly which irritated me. Of course, there were the few oddballs who refused to show whatever emotion they were feeling whatsoever. . . .(A/N: coughByakuyacough)

I kicked myself for my insatiable shyness, but remained silent as I listened to the rest of the meeting.

"Sir," Unohana addressed respectfully, bowing her head in a show of such reverence. She would have stepped forward to get closer to her lord, but my tight hold on her clothes kept her grounded. With a reassuring smile at me from over her shoulder, she pressed on with her argument. "This girl has been scheduled to die in three months," she explained, not daring to skip around the details before getting to the point. "She claims to be unable to die at such a time."

Now, everyone's eyes–which had been focused on Unohana as she spoke–switched over to me. I felt a surge of embarrassment as all the attention in the room focused solely on my frail form. Wishing I could disappear into the wooden floorboards beneath my bare feet, I thanked the spirits for at least making Unohana tall enough to conceal me from too much staring (even though we _were_ the same height of 5'2". . . .).

"And what's more is that she has not aged a single day since she turned sixteen. She is nearly 23 years old but still resembles a teenage girl," Unohana continued, adding that extra tidbit to make it seem as if _she_ had come upon the discovery all by herself. It didn't bother me in the least. In fact, I was happy that she had claimed to be the founder. It made it sound as if it _wasn't_ just a simple fluke. . . . "I thought it best to keep her under surveillance to make certain that her death goes as it is recorded," she finally finished, sweeping into a low bow so as to earn the Captain General's approval. After all, what he said goes. If he allowed me to stay, then I would stay. If he told her to take me home, then I would have to return home. Which was something I knew I could not do. I knew that my body would have all the signs of impending death during these next three months. The pain would be wreaking havoc inside my chest, tearing me apart from the inside-out. Still, that would be nothing compared to the agony of seeing the distraught expressions on the faces of my family and friends. I already knew that I was _not_ going to kick the bucket at the end of those three months. There was no way I was going to allow my family and friends to go through such a hellish time believing that I would _die_. Three months of worrying. . . . I had seen what that could do to a person. Even if there was a great relief in the end, the amount of suffering they would have to endure beforehand would be too great a stress to _not_ cause some sort of long-term damage. So I had made up the excuse that I had been offered a job in the animations department in Tokyo, Japan. After that, I had gotten the hell out of there. . .with Unohana-san's help, of course.

"Hmm. Are you certain she isn't simply lying to you, Captain of the Fourth Squad?" a nasal voice inquired, breaking the silence of the meeting room.

I snuck a glance around Unohana to see who had spoken. My nose automatically scrunched up in distaste when I noticed the captain of the Twelfth Division, Mayuri Kurotsuchi eyeing me. I felt my muscles tense up in a defensive manner at his slander on not only my character but on Unohana's as well. These guys should know not too push my buttons. My patience usually ran deep and long, but in the span of twenty-four hours I had been told I was going to die, met a soul reaper who had come straight out of a _manga_, and had _then_ been taken into the _Seireitei_, itself. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly in the best of moods right now. . . .

"What motive would she have to lie, Captain Kurotsuchi?" the Thirteenth Squad Captain, Jûshirô Ukitake asked with a hard stare in the scientist's direction.

I instantly felt myself feeling gratitude towards the white-haired man.

"Well, if she wanted to get out of dying. . ." the strange man began, speaking in an "isn't-it-obvious" tone.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at his remark. I _really_ hated this guy.

"It is impossible to escape death," Soi Fon–the Captain of the Second Company–stated with a tone of finality. Everyone waited to see if she would respond further, but she remained silent after her initial statement.

"I don't see why the pretty, young lady would bother to lie," Captain Shunsui Kyôraku of Eighth Company finally spoke up. He smiled kindly in my direction as he continued speaking, "She seems like an honest and intelligent girl. It just doesn't sit right with me to think she would lie about being unable to die." He pulled down on the tip of his hat, hiding his eyes for some reason or another. I didn't know why he did it, but the simple action made him look kind of cool. . . .

"'Intelligent'? Ha!" Kurotsuchi laughed, cold-heartedly. He glared at the Eighth Division's Captain. "What kind of intellectual being would dare insinuate an ability to surpass death?" He stepped out of line to take a menacing step closer to Shunsui.

I felt myself move out from my hiding spot behind Unohana, frustration building inside me. This madman's ranting about my intelligence and my credibility was setting my temper to boiling point.

"Is she claiming to be an immortal?" Captain Tôshirô Hitsugaya of the Tenth Division took a step out of his own line, purposefully interrupting the building argument between the two captains. His green-blue eyes stared into my own sea-blue ones. I felt warmth flush my cheeks suddenly, but clenched my hands into fists in an attempt to keep myself from jumping for cover behind Unohana once more. My long black bangs fell over one side of my face as I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next. The rest of my waist-long hair hung loosely around my scrawny form, swaying slightly with every movement I made.

"I don't really know about immortality," I admitted in a small voice. It came out as a soft, tremulous whisper thanks to my shyness. Still, I knew that everyone in the room had heard my words.

"Yet you claim you will not die even with this illness that is supposed to kill you in precisely three months," Kurotsuchi rebutted in his nasal-like voice. "That sounds to me that you claim to be immortal." A tone of pride rang through his voice at his final sentence, proving that he thought he had me.

He was so wrong.

"Immortality is impossible to reach," I started in a stronger voice than I had used before. "That would indicate that a person can not only avoid dying of old age or an illness, but that he or she would be unable to taste death at all. In other words, they can't even be killed by a weapon." I smirked at the awestruck expression on the black-and-white face of the Twelfth Captain. He certainly hadn't been expecting _that_.

"So you are saying that you can still be killed?" Captain Hitsugaya continued. He didn't seem perturbed in the least by my intelligent answer.

I just nodded in response to his query, feeling kind of nervous, now. I sure hoped they wouldn't sink so low as to _kill_ me at the time my life was meant to be up. If so, then I would have to find a way to get the hell out of there before the deadline hit.

"You're scaring the poor girl, Captain Hitsugaya," Ukitake chastised with a stern look. He then turned to give me a gentle smile, noticing that I stood frozen to my spot, visible to all. "It is alright, young lady," he reassured me in a sympathetic voice. "We have no intentions of killing you if what you say will happen does occur."

"You are not the one to make such a decision, Captain Ukitake," Yamamoto finally reentered the conversation.

Everyone's attention instantly reverted back to him. A trickle of fear ran through me, but I steeled myself against it. It would do no good for me to freak out in front of all these powerful Shinigami.

"However, there should be no need for such a thing," the Head Captain continued in a powerful drone. "Death is unavoidable. We shall retrieve her soul within three months, as previously planned." His unusually-sharp eyes then cut to me, pinning me with something I could only call a glare. "She does not need to return to her home in America if she has no desire to, but she certainly can _not_ remain _here_." His voice held such resolve and authority that no one dared question him. Not even I.

I stepped behind Unohana-san once again, breathing in and out deeply so that I wouldn't pass out from all the spiritual pressure building up around me. Something settled on my shoulder which caused me to whip my head up to see who it was. My eyes widened in surprise when I looked up into the smiling face of Captain Ukitake.

"How about we go to the 13 barracks for a while?" he suggested kindly, his eyes reminding me strongly of a father looking out for his daughter. "Is that alright with you, Unohana-_taichou_?" The white-haired man glanced over at his fellow captain who nodded gratefully at him.

"That would be very helpful, Ukitake," the elegant woman thanked him with an expression of relief crossing her features. "I have a few patients that I must check on before I can take her back to the world of the living. It may take me the rest of the afternoon. Is that alright?"

"It shouldn't be a problem," Ukitake replied with a bright grin before settling his hand on my back and using that to guide me through the huge set of double doors which led outside.

I let out a sigh, happy to be out of the presence of the head-captain. The old man gave me the creeps. However good his intentions may be, I still held no liking for the leader of the Gotei 13.

"You aren't one for crowds, are you?" the older man asked, sounding amused.

I shook my head in the negative as I turned my head back to see him. That was when I noticed that he suddenly had a thoughtful expression on his face. Confusion swirled in the pit of my stomach. I found myself wondering what could possibly be wrong _now_.

"You know," he started, causing me to perk up and listen attentively. "I don't even know your name."

If he hadn't had his hand steadying me as we walked through the pristine walls of the _Seireitei_, I would have fallen right then and there at that statement. I wanted to slap myself for missing that obvious detail. Of course, _I _knew _them_, but _they_ didn't know _me_!

"My name's Angel Wolfe Selim," I supplied in a quiet voice. I prayed that he had heard me. Most people always had to ask "what?" and then lean in closer to understand what I had said. Fortunately, it seemed that _shimigami_ did not fit in such a category, for which I was grateful.

"That's quite a mouthful," Ukitake chuckled.

With a quick glance back, I noticed that he was smiling. Without meaning to, my own lips curved up in a similar expression. My cheeks flushed when I noticed him looking at me with delight. I quickly redirected my attention back to the wooden floors at my feet.

"What do you prefer to be called?" the 13th Captain continued, endeavoring to salvage the remnants of the conversation.

I thought about it for a little bit, wondering what I should say. I soon gave up and replied with a sigh, "Just 'Angel' is alright."

"Well, then, Angel," Ukitake started, still smiling kindly down at me. "Do you like tea?"


End file.
